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Friday, September 4, 1908
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By gum, it was one whole year today that I set sail from New York! Twelve whole months! Three hundred and sixty-five - no, six - whole days! It doesn't seem possible, - the way time flies out here is simply amazin'. Well, I can't say I've done a hell of a lot in this year past, but I've seen a few places and learned one or two things, and am bloody well glad I've had the experience.

Now the thing that's exercising my mind is the salary question -

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Saturday, September 5, 1908
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Twenty four more hours today, that's all. As Naish says, when you go "no trumps" in the ^[[confident]] hope of finding a "hundred" aces and four kings in his hand, "Well, I've got thirteen cards!"

We had a little hand after dinner at the Sociéte bungalow, and Smith's hoodoo trailed him ^[[from]] [[strikeout]] the gun. He lost eight rubbers running, and when he did win the last there wasn't a copper pie in it.

Cheer up, Smith, there must be a nice little girl somewhere in "the  tight little isle," waiting for you. You can use up that stock of Pallonjee crockery [[strikeout]] on her, old man.